


First Cup of Tea, Third Time's the Charm

by Kryptaria, rayvanfox



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:26:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3137651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kryptaria/pseuds/Kryptaria, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayvanfox/pseuds/rayvanfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's never wise to disturb a sleeping quartermaster, especially not one who has more precautions than a simple home alarm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Cup of Tea, Third Time's the Charm

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Сначала чашка чая: попытка номер три](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10441053) by [Christoph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christoph/pseuds/Christoph)
  * Inspired by [First Cup of Tea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3119879) by [Kryptaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kryptaria/pseuds/Kryptaria). 



> Now we're fanficcing our fanfics of fanfics. Enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to neverwhere, scriptrixlatinae, swimmingfrug, and zephyrfox for the betaing!

A crash jolted Q out of his sleep. He gasped in a breath scented with citrus and lavender, and for one disorientated moment, he had the terrifying thought that his grandmother had returned from the dead. It was from her that he’d inherited his love of Earl Grey tea — among other things.

He shoved at his blankets and propped up on one elbow, which was as close to sitting up as he could get at the moment. Steel grey light oozed around the edges of the curtains like the leviathan tentacles of London’s customary overcast. He stared at his brushed steel bedside lamp for a few fuzzy moments before realizing that the crash, while definitely ceramic, couldn’t have been the lamp.

Had he brought a mug into the bedroom last night? That would explain the tea-scent. But if he’d had a cup of tea on his bedside table, how could he have dashed it to the floor? He’d been sleeping in the centre of the bed as was his custom when sleeping at home, which was all too often these days. He could count on one hand the number of nights he’d spent at his wayward boyfriend’s flat. That was the price of dating a Double O, he supposed.

He shook his head, trying to jolt his thoughts into some sort of order. Had he been anywhere else — say, the office — even a hint of noise would’ve been enough to snap Q fully awake. Here in his bedroom, though, he knew he was perfectly safe, no matter what had caused the crash, and his subconscious was urging him to lie back down.

Not that he’d ever be so lax with his security. No, despite all the precautions that kept him absolutely safe here in his sanctuary, he knew he should at least investigate.

If nothing else, the smell of bergamot had ignited his craving for a cup of tea.

So he flattened his hand against the mattress and pushed up so he could look around his bedroom. Thick curtains that weren’t quite sufficient to cover the windows. Standing Ikea wardrobe in the corner. Framed _Anarchy in the UK_ Sex Pistols poster — signed, of course — on the wall by the door.

Nothing to indicate any disturbance. No errant teapots smashed against the wall. No ghostly apparitions of grandmothers bearing fine china.

Perhaps the smell was hallucinatory? The remnant of a particularly vivid dream?

Q was actually considering going back to sleep when he heard the faint tinkle of ceramic-on-ceramic.

So much for hallucinating.

Q shoved the blankets aside and kicked his legs over the edge of the bed. With one hand, he rubbed at his eyes; with the other, he reached for the glasses on the bedside table. He needed them more for distance than anything else, but wearing them had become habit. Besides, if he was actually awake, he might as well have them close at hand. Otherwise, he might end up leaving without them, and then he’d be stuck wearing the backup pair that he kept in his desk at work.

Assuming he went to work. He actually had no idea what day of the week it was. The last mission had gone on _forever_ , or so it seemed.

Q got his glasses in place, shoved his hair back out of his eyes, and stumbled upright. Fatigue pulled at his limbs, weighing him down. He felt like he’d been on the verge of exhaustion for _months_ , ever since his promotion. He’d been tempted by the promise of more money, but now he was having second thoughts. More money meant nothing if he was too tired to actually put it to use.

Grumbling to himself, he stumbled around the bed — 

And stopped as he finally found the source of the crash. Just inside the bedroom doorway, the floor was littered with the ceramic shards of what had once been his favourite Black Mesa mug. Milky tea stained the throw rug. And there in the midst of the destroyed mug of tea was a fluffy white rabbit, legs twitching, eyes wide and rolling with disorientated fear.

Only one person could’ve got past the conventional alarms on the doors and windows, past the motion sensors in the hall, past the tertiary pressure-switch under the floorboards outside the bedroom door, all without ever having set foot inside the flat before today.

Q crossed his arms and looked down at the rabbit. “Couldn’t you just phone ahead like a normal boyfriend, James?”

The rabbit finally managed to get all four feet under itself. It crouched there, shivering wetly and glaring like... well, like an angry rabbit. Q had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.

“I should have known you’d end up complicating matters.” Q sighed and lowered his hands, fingers hooking into the threads of magic altering the physical manifestation of his boyfriend-turned-rabbit. The rabbit’s very existence violated all sorts of laws of physics as conventional scientists knew them, but conventional scientists didn’t have the whole story. The matter-energy conversion was enormous — unthinkable, in fact, without the proper grounding framework.

In this case, Q had built that framework, a lattice of power that channelled his will through the physical wiring of his flat. He’d had to install ceramic buffers to keep the spell from spreading throughout the building — avoiding a plague of rabbits, among other issues — but a properly secure flat was worth the effort. Any burglar, home invader, or enemy combatant who managed to bypass his conventional alarm system would be rendered utterly harmless.

He simply hadn’t intended it to trap his boyfriend.

Unweaving the spell pushed Q’s sleepy concentration to its limits. He took care, double- and triple-checking everything. The last thing he wanted was to get James halfway back to human, rather than all the way. The very thought of a half-rabbit Double O was too horrifying to contemplate.

Spellwork was nearly as satisfying as programming. Q hit _enter_ , so to speak, and pulled the threads away. In a brilliant flash of warmth and light — overspill from the reverse energy-to-matter conversion — the spell reset, releasing James from its furry clutches. The errant agent returned to human form, crouched on the floor, wearing a tea-damp suit and looking more harried than he had since the whole mess with Silva.

He blinked and crinkled his nose, then cleared his throat and tried to look innocent. “I didn’t want to wake you.” He came to himself a little more and stood up, tugging on his cuffs. “What...”

“No,” Q said before James could think of how to finish that sentence. The magic unweaving had taxed his reserves of energy, leaving him a bit shaky on his feet. He held up one hand and started ticking off points on his fingers. “One, you broke into my flat. Two, magic is real. Three, yes, I can. Four, no, I will _not_ teach you. Five, you owe me a new mug.” He ran out of fingers, which momentarily stymied him. Finally, he stuck one finger up again and said, “And six, I’m going back to bed. You may join me, _after_ you clean up.”

“May I help you to bed? You look done in.” James stepped forward, one hand reaching cautiously for Q, his face wary. He was too good an agent to show outright fear, but it was there all the same — precisely what Q _didn’t_ want to see.

“I won’t...” Q stopped before he could say something absurd, like _hurt you_. That would just end up in an argument over their respective abilities to do harm. And truthfully, Q’s magic was formidable but hardly offensive in nature. Instead, he nodded and took James’ hand. “I didn’t leave the office until you were safely back on British soil. I haven’t slept for days.”

“Christ. You’re getting as bad as me. Come on, pet.” James nudged Q gently towards the bed, solicitous in his assistance.

“I was perfectly safe, you know.” Q pulled off his glasses, only to have James take them away. “You didn’t have to break into my flat to check on me.”

James grunted good-humouredly — a noise Q had started to understand was a laugh — and guided Q up to the bed, saying, “I believe you. I just wanted to see you.”

“And you couldn’t have called,” Q grumbled. He crawled towards the centre of the bed, then ended up stretched out diagonally. “Suit off first, James. Rabbit fur.”

“I was attempting to —” James cut himself off. “Wait, _how_ is there rabbit fur on my suit?”

“I’m certain you shed on the carpet — which _you_ get to hoover,” Q said, rolling onto his side to look up at James, who was glaring suspiciously back at him. “Fur, carpet, suit. So get rid of the suit. I’d rather not have an allergic reaction in my sleep.”

“You’re _allergic_ to — Why on earth do you turn people into something you’re allergic to?” James sounded offended, but he started to undo his tie, as per Q’s request.

Q huffed into the pillow, keeping one eye cracked open. Even exhausted, it was well worth the effort to watch James undress. “I’m not allergic to dogs. I like dogs. If a dog crawled into bed with me, I wouldn’t wake up. A rabbit, though...” He shuddered and wriggled to get himself under the blanket. “If nothing else, the sneezing and itching would wake me up.”

The tie landed on the floor in the corner of the room, and James moved on to the buttons of his shirt. He was a methodical dresser, and it translated to a slow, steady undressing pace. “Clever.”

“’Course it’s clever,” Q muttered, lazily thinking more in terms of sharing his bed with James than the intricacies of spellwork. “ _I’m_ clever. You’re too bloody pretty, you know.”

James smiled — a slight softening around the eyes and an easing of his lips — and said, “Better than being pretty bloody, you know. I managed to stay in one piece this time. Aren’t you pleased?” He’d worked his way down the front of his shirt and started unbuckling his belt.

“I know you’re in one piece. I was scrying you the whole time,” Q said petulantly. If James just dropped his clothes, he’d be in bed already, and they’d both be asleep — or they’d have a better reason to be awake than _chatting_.

The lines between James’ eyebrows appeared for a half second as he unzipped his trousers. “Scrying? If you’re able to watch, can you intervene?”

“It’s more complicated than that. Distance-sight is a matter of entangled light particles. Actually _doing_ anything would burn more energy than if I’d ran to your location and back.” Q shot James a bleak look. “Are you done yet?”

“Patience, quartermaster.” James’ pace increased minutely, though somehow his suit jacket and shirt managed to land on the floor moments later. “Did your... effort to restore me just now tire you out?”

Q’s _mmm-hmm_ came out a soft hum. “Set spells are easier. You can spread the exertion. Use tools.”

James finally toed off his shoes and took his trousers off, then dropped them on top of the pile. “Tools. Of course. You’re not talking about something like a wand, are you?” His eyebrow hopped up slightly, suggestively.

“I will shoot you,” Q threatened, rolling onto his other side. “I will shoot you, hire a cleaning service to get rid of the blood, and then use magic to wipe their memories.”

“Why not simply magic the blood away?” James’ infuriating smirk gleamed for a heartbeat before he removed his pants and socks. Pyjamas weren’t his style.

“Because physical alterations —” Q stopped and shook his head, then twisted to frown back over his shoulder at James. “I am _not_ teaching you magic. Get in bed and go to sleep. And be glad I’m not erasing this from your memory, mostly because I’ll end up with a rabbit invasion every bloody night, with you thinking breaking and entering is romantic.”

“It’s not the B & E that’s romantic. It’s the waking you with a kiss part.” James slipped into bed behind Q and nuzzled the back of his neck. “Admit it. Would have been delicious... nice cuppa tea, your agent in your bed...”

“The _sleep_ part,” Q mumbled, snuggling back into James’ arms. He was a pain in the arse, absolute hell on paperwork, a nightmare when it came to requisitions forms, and lovely to touch, especially this sort of full-body embrace. Nearly as reassuring as a home defence spell.

Nearly...

Q frowned, eyes opening as he replayed everything he’d seen and heard of James’ methodical strip-without-tease. There hadn’t been a holster involved.

“007,” Q said in his Quartermaster voice. “Where’s my gun?”

“Ah.” James paused the slow movement of his hand over Q’s hip and thigh. “That’s... complicated.”

“Complicated.” Q closed his eyes and hid his sigh. “Very well, then... I’ll _forget_ about the complication, if you forget about my magic.”

A quiet sigh ghosted over Q’s nape. “Done.”

Q pulled the blankets higher up, then covered James’ hand with his own, holding it against his chest. “One-time deal, James. Don’t go throwing my weapons when you run out of ammunition. I’ll turn you into a rabbit and give you to a primary school to be the classroom pet.”

James drew breath, presumably to protest, then let it out as he murmured, “Noted.” He pressed closer to Q’s backside and added, “Are we sleeping now? Or...”

Somehow, between Q’s brain and his mouth, _yes_ turned into, “Three hours of sleep. Then you can... _or._ ”

“I’ll set my alarm.” James’ voice was low and full of warmth and right behind Q’s ear.

Despite his exhaustion and irritation, Q smiled. “Welcome home, James.”

“Thank you, love. Sweet dreams.” James kissed Q’s ear and added, “And thanks for not leaving me a rabbit.”

“I don’t want to be allergic to you. I like you. I occasionally even love you, when you’re not a sodding pain in the arse.”

“Well.” James’ hand flattened against Q’s sternum. “I’ll endeavour to be less of a pain, then. Given that I love _you_ and would enjoy loving you _without_ paws.”

Thankfully, Q’s back was turned, hiding his silly grin. James _never_ used the L-word. “Do that, Agent. Do that.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [First Cup of Tea: Another AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176034) by [takumiismypatronus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/takumiismypatronus/pseuds/takumiismypatronus)




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